


moon dreams

by dizzy, waveydnp



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 09:24:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17743244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveydnp/pseuds/waveydnp
Summary: It's three in the morning, and they're okay.





	moon dreams

Phil dreams about the moon being so big and close it crashes down into them. 

When he wakes up, he makes an alarmed noise. He reaches out for Dan beside him but Dan isn't there. It makes panic constrict against his chest. His phone is already there, in his other hand loosely, like he'd fallen asleep doing something. When he thumbs over the button a word game pops up. 

He still doesn't know what that word is. He closes out of it and realizes it's only half two. If Dan's not in bed then Dan must still be awake, still upstairs doing... something. 

Phil doesn't know what. He doesn't always ask. He tries to give Dan time alone sometimes when they're in a fight. 

They're in a fight right now. He doesn't even really know what the fight was about. He just knows he's feeling caged in by Dan and the way Dan is sometimes - not that he doesn't love Dan for every way about him, but sometimes the world needs more from Dan than Dan is ready to give and their reactions to that feeling aren't always the same. 

He really hates being in a fight with Dan, though. Something sick and sad crawls up his throat and he wants to cry. He sits up in bed and throws the duvet off. His fingers are shaking. He won't cry. It's not that sort of fight. 

He was being stubborn. That's really all it comes down to. He was being stubborn earlier and now he's done being stubborn. It always passes, after a while. Dan won't stay cross with him. They'll lick their wounds and tomorrow they'll come up with a new plan. They will send the emails they need to send and tell people they need time even if it's only one of them that really does, because they move at different paces but Phil isn't leaving Dan behind, not ever. 

He's still barefoot when he walks up the stairs. Dan's on the couch curled up like he's cold though the big fur blanket is right beside him. 

He looks up at Phil and blinks dark, wet eyes. "I thought you were asleep." 

"I was," Phil admits. He crosses the room and sits down beside Dan, grabbing the blanket. "What are we watching?" 

“Nothing.”

“Dan.”

Dan closes his eyes and shakes his head. He says nothing.

Phil reaches out for him. If Dan doesn’t want to be touched he’s just going to have to say something because Phil’s not asking.

Dan still doesn’t say anything. He lets Phil pull him right into his lap. He lets Phil cradle him like a baby. Phil doesn’t feel like Dan’s his baby, but he does feel a rather intense urge to protect him in the late hours, with the image of the moon so big and bright and beautiful and terrifying as it crushed them to death. 

He barely even remembers what the stupid row was about now that Dan’s crying wetness onto his shoulder. “Talk to me,” Phil whispers. “I promise I’m done being a jerk.”

“You’re never a jerk,” Dan blubbers. “I’m the jerk. I’m a cunt.”

“Don’t say that. That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about.” He hopes Dan will giggle.

He doesn’t. “I’m the worst thing that ever happened to you.”

“You’re the best,” Phil counters. “And we’ve talked about this. You’re not allowed to say otherwise. It hurts me.”

“I’m tired of being me.”

Phil drops his face down onto Dan’s. “I know.”

He has to focus on breathing and count to ten in his head. He wants to tell Dan all the things he loves about him, all the reasons he could never tire of Dan being himself. 

He’s not going to say those things to Dan right now because Dan wouldn’t hear them. He wouldn’t believe them. He’d argue every point, he’d tell Phil that he’s ignoring all the shit parts.

Phil’s not ignoring the shit parts, but Dan wouldn’t hear that either. He won’t hear much of anything right now, except _I know_. And probably _I love you._

“I love you,” Phil says. 

Dan just clings a little tighter. 

“Will you come to bed?” Phil asks.

Dan shakes his head. “You can go. I’m sure you’re tired.”

“I’m not. I just want you to—”

“Phil will you fucking stop, please. Be less perfect. It just makes me feel worse when you’re so self sacrificing.”

Phil snaps his mouth shut and focuses on the breathing and the counting again because he’s offended and he doesn’t want to act on that. Dan’s not himself when he’s at the mercy of his brain’s wonky chemistry. 

“I’m not tired,” Phil says when he trusts himself to be strong. “I had a bad dream and I didn’t want to be without you anymore.”

“So you’re just scared to sleep alone.”

“No. I’m not scared. I miss you and I felt bad about what I said earlier.”

Dan pushes back a little so he’s sitting on a cushion and not Phil’s thighs. “Which part?”

“All the parts.” Phil’s stomach tightens. He doesn’t particularly want to relive it. “I was annoyed and I was harsh and mean and I regret it.”

“You weren’t wrong, though.”

Phil sighs, scrubbing a hand down over his face. “You can be technically not wrong and still be wrong. I was wrong.”

“You were right. I need to get over it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But it’s what you meant,” Dan says. 

“I don’t want to talk about this now.” He can feel the anger bubbling just below the surface. He knows that burying it is what they both need tonight.

Dan wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his jumper. “Ok.”

“I’m trying to be less self sacrificing.”

“I know,” Dan says. “Thank you.”

“But I still want to know what you want to do right now. I want to be part of making you feel better. If it’s possible.”

Dan actually thinks about it this time. “I want Frank.” 

Phil almost smiles. He would, if not for the lingering heaviness of the moment, the balancing act of knowing the right thing to say at the right time and knowing that even if he gets both of them right it still may not be… right. 

“Let’s do Frank, then.” 

Dan climbs to his feet and goes over to his desk. Phil takes the moment to get some water, because he knows Dan doesn’t think enough. Neither of them to - but Phil’s alright being a bit of a hypocrite when it comes to take care of Dan. He’s better at that than he is taking care of himself. 

He thinks it’s the same for Dan, as well. They both care more about the other person than themselves sometimes. Maybe that’s wrong, but it’s a strange balance that works for them, mostly. Tomorrow Dan will be fussing after him telling him not to wear his contacts for fourteen hours straight and that he doesn’t need a fifth cup of coffee before noon no matter how many emails he’s got. And tomorrow Phil will make faces at that and feel exasperated by it and Dan will remind him that Phil was pouring him a glass of water at three in the morning and they’ll reach their usual stalemate. 

Dan does roll his eyes when Phil hands him the water, but he tips the glass and drinks half of it in one go. He puts it down on the table by the sofa and untangles his headphones, handing one to Phil. 

Any other time and Dan would balk at the idea of only using one earbud to listen to music. But that doesn’t matter right now, just like it doesn’t matter that this isn’t Phil’s favorite music. It’s not about the purity of the experience of appreciation of the lyrics. 

It’s about their heads bent together and sharing this between them, this thing that somehow manages to be what can sometimes drown out all the other thoughts in Dan’s head. 

His body grows heavy against Phil’s as one song bleeds into the next. Dan’s not falling asleep, Phil knows it’s not that easy. Sleep is never easy for Dan. But he’s letting go of some of the weight pressing down on him, letting a stranger’s voice carry it away. 

Phil adjusts how he’s sitting, arm wrapping around Dan’s waist. His fingers find their way under Dan’s jumper just to feel the warmth of the skin under his ribs. He kisses Dan’s temple, kisses his forehead, kisses his ear. He moves so much he almost dislodges the earbud, reaching up with his free hand to press it back into place. 

Dan’s head comes to rest against Phil’s shoulder. Phil’s mind wanders to somewhere else; back to the dream he had, to the moon big and scary. He can’t concentrate well right now, but Dan can and that’s enough. 

“Can we stay here for the night?” Dan asks. “I don’t wanna go back to bed.”

Phil almost says yes. His instinct is always to say yes to absolutely anything Dan wants in his low moments. But sleeping on the sofa will be uncomfortable and leave them both with sore backs and adding physical pain to the mental will only make the hangover of this awful fucking night worse. 

“We can stay here for now, but we can’t sleep here,” Phil says gently. 

Dan lifts his head up and looks at Phil’s face, eyes darting side to side as he takes Phil in like he’s seeing him for the first time all night. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

“Are you tired?”

Dan shrugs. “A bit.”

“We can listen to music in bed,” Phil offers. “We can do whatever you need to do to make bed feel ok.”

Dan shakes his head. “I don’t want to— It feels bad to… let’s just go to bed. I want to feel normal. I’m just— I need to—” He stops trying to explain himself and just shakes his head.

Phil bites his tongue. It’s not his turn to talk, and he’s not Dan’s therapist. 

“It feels like shit to know that deep down I’ve still got all the same bullshit,” Dan says after a long silence. “Like I keep trying for personal growth and shit and it still comes down to me being scared. And then I act like a twat and you’re too nice about it and then I feel guilty and stupid and—”

“Dan.”

Dan looks at him expectantly.

“I think we should go to bed. Things always feel worse in the middle of the night and I’m tired.”

It feels selfish. It _is_ selfish, but he thinks it’s just what Dan needs to hear.

“Yeah ok,” Dan agrees. “You’re right.”

“We can listen to Frank on my laptop,” Phil offers. 

Dan shakes his head. “Let’s just open the window? So I can hear the cars.”

“We’ll need more blankets,” Phil says. 

Dan nods. “And you have to hold me.”

Phil stands up and pulls Dan along with him. “I can definitely do that.”

“Wait,” Dan says, stopping and turning around. He picks up the glass of water Phil had brought him and finishes it off then puts it back down.

He doesn’t look Phil in the eye after and Phil knows well enough to know that it’s better going unmentioned. He tucks his satisfaction away somewhere that Dan won’t feel a spotlight from it. 

Dan goes into the bathroom without saying anything to Phil. Phil can hear him having a wee with the door still open. Any other night he might make a joke about it, but tonight it’s just background noise. 

Instead he goes to the window and pulls the curtain aside. It’s a big window, overlooking a decent view of the street down to the green. He can see cars and hear people distantly. He wonders what sort of lives they’re leading that they’re up at this hour as well, if they’re having drunken fun or if they work nights or if they’re having their own sorts of bad times. 

He starts to shiver after only a minute of standing there. He hears Dan’s toothbrush going and that makes him smile. Oral hygiene is always important. 

He turns back to the bed when he hears the water shut off. Dan looks bleary eyed and exhausted when he steps into the room. Did he look like that a few hours ago? Did Phil just not notice? 

How many times does he just not notice until too much time has passed? Is there something he should be doing to try and head these moods off for Dan before they get so badly? 

No, his rational brain supplies. There’s nothing he can do that will make Dan not depressed. 

“Phil,” Dan says. 

He sounds - not helpless. Dan’s never helpless. It’s always got the strength inside of him. It’s just sometimes he loses the way to find it. 

“It’s cold,” Phil says. “Get into bed. I’m going to get the extra blankets.” 

They’re in the linen closet outside of the bedroom. He doesn’t know why he didn’t think to fetch them beforehand, but it’s only a few steps away. 

His fingers close around the one he only recently laid to rest, blue and green. He almost grabs it for a second. It feels like a safety blanket of his own, something to hide under and behind. 

He gets the one underneath it instead, one they use for guests. Dan’s already under their normal gray one when Phil steps in, shaking it out then letting it flutter on top of him. His aim is off and it covers Dan’s face as well, making Dan laugh a bit. 

It’s a lovely sound. Phil’s always thought so. 

He tugs down just enough for Dan’s head to pop out, then leans over and kisses Dan’s forehead. 

“Stop that,” Dan says. “You’re like my mum tucking me in.” 

“Did your mum tuck you in?” Phil asks. 

“Yeah. When I was little, I guess.” Dan goes quiet. “Or do I just assume she did because that’s what mums do?” 

“I don’t know,” Phil says. He gets into bed on his side, burrowing under the double layer of duvets and immediately scooting in close to Dan. “You can text her and ask her tomorrow.” 

“Your arms are cold.” Dan curls his fingers around Phil’s wrist and secures Phil’s hold on him. 

“I’ll warm up,” Phil says. “You’ll warm me up.” 

Dan always does. He’s made of warm. Even when he feels cold on the inside, he’s still Phil’s warmth. 

“What was your dream about?” Dan asks. 

Phil’s first instinct is not to say. It’s not like the dream makes sense, but it feels personal and on a night they’ve been fighting he feels vulnerable to being told the things that upset him aren’t that important. 

It’s ridiculous. Dan wouldn’t say that. But sometimes he doesn’t need to say it. Sometimes Phil just understands that the things that upset him are the sorts of things Dan only wishes he were dealing with. 

But Dan asked because Dan wants to know, and Phil has to trust that. “The moon was going to crash into us.” 

“That moon right there?” Dan asks. He doesn’t need to point. They’ve got a clear view, somehow even through the London smog. 

If the moon could fight through that maybe it could really get to them. 

Phil decides not to say that. Once in a while his filter does kick in. 

“That very one,” Phil says. 

“Is that all?” Dan asks. 

Probably not, Phil realizes. But sometimes dreams are fleeting, or emotions that don’t fit the scene get tangled up in them anyway. “Yeah.” 

“Did it kill us?” Dan asks. 

“I think it was going to.” 

Dan’s hand squeezes against his arm. He does know Phil, after all. He knows the things that scare Phil the most. “We’re okay.”


End file.
